


Darkness Waiting

by Deejaymil



Series: A Picture's Worth [5]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Darkness, End of the World, Gen, If You Squint - Freeform, No Dialogue, Prompt Fic, Shippy Gen, Silence, not as angsty as it could be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deejaymil/pseuds/Deejaymil
Summary: On the eighth day after the bomb fell, there came a storm.





	Darkness Waiting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SatuD2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatuD2/gifts).



> Prompt: _The world has gone completely silent, and your OTP/BroTP/fave character has to figure out why. A prompt with no dialogue and only body language._

And, on the eighth day, a storm.

It stripped the world of light and of sound. That mattered more than it might have eight days before; when the bomb had fallen, it had also brought with it silence. They’d watched it together, silent and stunned and alone. Watched the blue turn to white. Watched the white turn to black.

Watched the world fade.

The news had come through on the radio that now hangs at Reid’s hip. Maybe it still talks. Neither of them can hear it to know. It seems almost fortunate that they were out in the middle of nowhere for once because the middle of somewhere is exactly where it was aimed. But they’re not thinking about that right now; they’re just thinking about surviving this storm. They’re also not thinking about how many dead, how many dying, or what’s waiting for them outside this world of nothing.

Emily’s never been scared of the dark, but she’s finding that she’s terrified of eternal silence. When they do sleep, she dreams of the bomb falling and she remembers the _boom_ of it. It’s a memory of a sound she recalls hearing, which seems so blatantly hollow, and it resonates in her skull when she wakes to silence.

Reid’s terrified of the dark, but he doesn’t mind the quiet. He misses Emily’s face though and is haunted, always, by a fear of losing her in the dark. On the sixth day, when they’d realised that the light was fading, they’d looped a rope around their wrists. Like otters desperate to not be torn apart by uncaring tides, they cling to each other.

And they travel into the nothing, searching for a something.

Eight days ago, they were looking for a child, lost in the woods. Just another day at work. Now they've lost themselves, but, honestly, it doesn’t matter, because they think the world might have been lost too. They walk close together and with endless care because a broken leg in this new place will be fatal. It’s pitch black. Maybe it’s still a forest. Maybe it’s something completely new. Maybe they died, and their limbo is an eternity tied together without ever being able to connect.

On the tenth day, neither can stand it anymore. When Emily wakes up suddenly, sure for a moment that she can hear again and heartbroken to realise that the wind ripping the world apart around her is still silent, she finds the rope slack. For a heartbeat, she’s terrified. But only for a heartbeat. She grabs it and moves hand over hand until she finds the warm touch of his skin at the other end, trailing her fingers up his arm, to his elbow, up his bicep, until they take a wild leap to fly up and curl around his cheek. She’s desperate to feel a smile, as he turns to face her in the darkness. She imagines his face: his eyes open wide against the dark despite the wind that throws dirt and grit against them. His cheek is scruffy, unshaved, and she imagines that too until his hand comes up to touch her mouth, and she realises that he’s doing the same.

Just for him, she smiles. It’s remarkable. They’re deaf and blind in this grave new world, but a smile is still contagious: he returns it, leaning close and pressing his lips to hers in a touch that’s warmer than anything else they have right now. It’s not a kiss, although it could be; while he’s there, he’s shaping words against her skin. Silent words littered with meaning, and she doesn’t quite get them, but she does get the gist.

_Don’t give up,_ he tells her. _All storms end._

She thinks that’s what he says, anyway. Maybe the words he gifts her in a kiss are something completely different. Maybe they’re actually _we’re going to die._ Maybe they’re _our team is gone._

But, somehow, she doubts it.

The dark is so complete that they’ve barely been able to see to eat the rations from their packs. Enough for a day, they’ve stretched them out for over a week. On the eleventh day, they run out. A new companion joins them.

It’s hunger.

Reid dreams that night. He dreams of finding a feast just for them, in a room filled with light and sound and warmth. Things he’s lacking. He wakes up sad, curled into a hurting ball in this terrible place, rocks under his side hurting and Emily too far away despite the rope tying them together.

She feels his terror through the rope connecting them and rolls towards him, tracing her fingers along the warm line of him and finding his torso buckled with the panicked angle he’s sitting up at. When she draws her hands up further along his body, blinking and finding no difference between her eyes being open or closed, she finds a rapidly slamming heart and, when she reaches it, a face that’s wet with tears. They have one blanket between the two of them, but she wraps it around them both and holds him tight. It’s been an eternity in the darkness, and all she wants is his light.

When she wakes sometime later, he’s still asleep and his frantic heart has calmed against her cheek. Maybe that’s the moment she realises that she doesn’t need to see him or hear him to know he’s alive.

She presses her mouth to his and shapes those words there: _you are alive._

Just in case he’s forgotten.

She knows he’s heard them, because he opens his eyes and smiles at her, a smile she feels.

Wait.

A smile she _sees_. The shadows on his face shift. His eyes glint in the dark with two bright points of light. Almost at the same time, he realises; they turn as one to watch the light flicker towards them. Flashlights, moving. They hear a whisper of a shout. They _hear._

The wind has died down.

They’re alive.


End file.
